Bleach
by Sebacean Redhead
Summary: Set during season 2, sometime after Trinity - John and Rodney have been pranking each other and Elizabeth gets unwittingly caught in the middle.


**Title:** Bleach  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Slight language  
><strong>Characters:<strong> Sheppard/Weir  
><strong>AN:** Set during season 2, sometime after _Trinity_ - John and Rodney have been pranking each other and Elizabeth gets unwittingly caught in the middle. I was searching for some prompts before starting this fic and ended up with the word 'bleach'. Oh yes, and expect plenty of doting!John in this one (because it's my first ever Sparky fic and I couldn't resist)  
><strong>Words:<strong> 2043  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong>I don't own them. Wish I did.

* * *

><p>Elizabeth surreptitiously watched his approach up the gateroom stairs, her lips quirking in anticipation of the delectable caffeine fix which he'd begun delivering to her office every morning. She couldn't help but direct a full blown smile his way as John strolled into her office with two steaming mugs of coffee, perching himself at her desk. She was beginning to look forward to his morning visits, secretly enjoying his concern, but mostly she cherished the quiet time spent with the Colonel before the rest of the base came to life, demanding her full attention.<p>

When did she start wanting, no, _needing_ his company like this? He was her best friend and confidant; there was no denying that. He was attractive; there was no denying that… _she __found __him __irresistibly __attractive_… damn that perpetual bed hair of his.

John was saying something to her. Fortunately she was spared the embarrassment of having to explain away her distractedness when her earpiece buzzed.

"Rodney" she mouthed as John suddenly started to look very uncomfortable.

"I'll leave you to him." he said, standing up to leave.

"No wait, I need to go over some mission reports first." She mentally kicked herself for ogling her second-in-command. He was clearly ill-at-ease now and looking for an escape route.

"Slow down, Rodney," Elizabeth rolled her eyes whilst John tried for a nonchalant eye-roll in reply.

"Is your shower broken?" her first thought was that this was going to be a very long day. John was fighting the urge to grin wickedly and she could not help but think he knew something she didn't. Damn that man.

"I'll send somebody over," she bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. John's intake of breath didn't go unnoticed either. "No, Rodney, just calm down." Elizabeth's expression slowly changed from amused to accusatory as the full picture became clear.

"John, why can't the two of you act like grownups for a change?"

"What makes you think it was me?"

Damn that cocky smirk.

"For starters, you know exactly what I'm talking about. A lemon in the shower? This is not a frat house!"

"Sorry Liz'beth." His demeanour had chastened somewhat, but Elizabeth wasn't entirely sure that he was genuinely sorry for his, frankly, immature behaviour.

"I think it's Rodney you should be apologising to."

"Hey, I was just trying to get things back to normal between us." he paused briefly, a flicker of regret crossing his features. "Since the whole Doranda mess. You know how useless I am when it comes to… talking about stuff."

Damn those puppy dog eyes, "Let's hope Rodney sees it that way."

For the rest of the week it appeared, for the most part, that he did. John and Rodney had resumed their bickering, which tended to mean 'business as usual', allowing a somewhat relieved Elizabeth to retire to her quarters that night.

"Dammit!" she cursed, as the empty shampoo bottle clattered to the floor. She stepped out of the shower, leaving a trail of water in her wake. Donning her robe, she warily keyed open her door, making sure that the passageway was empty. Teyla would no doubt let her borrow some shampoo, but Elizabeth didn't fancy a long walk through the corridors in nothing but a bathrobe. Colonel Sheppard's quarters, on the other hand, were just across from hers, and he'd still be with the others watching an 'Aliens' movie marathon. Excuses.

Ignoring her better judgement, Elizabeth hastily tapped in her command override and let herself in.

"John?" she uttered tentatively, tiptoeing into his room. It was military tidy, with a few personal touches. She could not help but smile when she spied the guitar in the far corner. Somehow, she imagined him having a soulful singing voice, imagined him singing to _her_. Dangerous territory.

Berating herself for snooping around her military commander's bedroom, she made her way into the bathroom and turned on the shower, only to have a cold blast of water hit her directly in the chest. What in the name of two galaxies would possess him to step straight into a cold shower like that? Blushing at the speculative images supplied by her imagination, she tried to drag her mind out of the gutter and adjusted the water temperature to something less glacial. Stepping into the warm spray, she allowed herself to relax. She reached out for his shampoo – it smelled of John… and something else which she could not quite make out.

Massaging it into her scalp, she felt a pleasant tingle. For military issue shampoo, it certainly wasn't what she expected. Then again, the undeniable buzz of being in her military commander's shower was probably having an effect on her. Snapping herself out of her reverie, she rinsed out her hair and enjoyed the warm spray for a few minutes longer. For some reason she did not want to leave, but she knew she'd have to before the Colonel came back. No sooner than the unbidden images of naked John in the shower popped into her mind, she heard sounds of movement outside.

"Oh crap!" Elizabeth quickly tried to make herself decent before embarrassing herself any further.

"John?" she called out, letting him know that she was in his bathroom.

"Elizabeth? What are you doing in there?"

John barely remembered to breathe as he saw what could easily have been one of his dreams reliving itself in vivid 3d - Elizabeth. In a towel. In his shower. A stray droplet of water made its way down her calf. His eyes could not help but follow its path to the delicate hollow of her ankle.

"I wasn't expecting you back so soon. My shampoo ran out." She blushed at him, not failing to notice his obvious appreciation of her figure.

"Um yeah, Rodney wouldn't stop talking. Kinda ruins the suspense." His eyes stopped somewhere near her cleavage. Get a grip Sheppard.

"Even when it's nothing you haven't seen before?" she smirked, mentally chastising herself for flirting with the man.

"Yes, as a matter of fact!" he huffed. "Anyway, do you have a change of clothes, or are you going to be walking the hallways in a towel?" John couldn't help grinning at the thought, but his inappropriate mental imagery was quickly tamped down by the Eyebrow. "Um yeah, I'll go and fetch something from your quarters."

"Thanks. My bathrobe got a bit drenched earlier." The smirk was back, leaving John to wonder what she found so amusing this time.

On his return, he found Elizabeth sitting on his bed, now with a second towel in hand, squeezing the excess water out of her hair. Without thinking, he dropped the pile of clothes next to her on the bed, then proceeded to gently towel down her hair, massaging her scalp along the way. Elizabeth's hands dropped into her lap. The towel fell away as his fingertips took over the massaging action, with slow circular movements from the top of her head, to the base of her neck. He worked out the knots in her shoulders, then delicately stroked back up towards her scalp, gently tugging at her curls. Elizabeth shivered and could almost feel John's smugness at the effect he was having on her, not that she cared much at this point. Her mind steadily dissolved into a haze of blissful tingles, barely resisting the compulsion to sigh contentedly. How can something so wrong feel so _right_?

"Liz'beth?" John asked suddenly.

That broke the trance, bringing reality crashing around Elizabeth with a bang. She jumped up and grabbed her clothes. "Sorry Colonel, I'll just get changed quickly and get back to my own quarters. I'll pick up some dry towels for you as well."

"No!" he stopped himself from grabbing her wrist. "It's not that. I err… have you done something to your hair? I'm just…" he paused and she looked completely baffled. "Umm… just look in the mirror."

With no small amount of trepidation, she stepped back into his bathroom and took a look for herself. "Well, I have to hand it to you, Colonel, that was _some_ massage."

"Are you sure you didn't put anything else in your hair?" he felt like Captain Obvious, and from the death glare Elizabeth was aiming at him, she didn't appreciate it much either.

"Apart from _your_ shampoo?" Elizabeth took a deep breath. "Come to think of it, it did smell a bit odd."

John grabbed the bottle and took a sniff, almost growling as the abrupt realisation hit him. "_McKay_."

He was narrowly restrained by Elizabeth from marching out and maiming the prankster there and then. Instead, he picked up his radio, "McKay! I don't suppose you have the means to reverse the effects of the bleach you so kindly poured into my shampoo?"

"Now why would I do that?" came the retort.

"Rodney, it was not me you got with it. Elizabeth came to borrow some of my shampoo and is now sitting here with orange-tinged hair. Do you want to explain to her that she's stuck like that, or shall I come over there and hurt you myself?"

"Ohmygod ohmygod… " Rodney started to pace. This was bad. Bad bad bad bad. Hang on one second, "Hang on, what is Elizabeth doing using your shampoo? Actually, no no no no, I don't want to know. I need brain bleach now! Oh my god, you are Kirk!"

"McKay, it's not what you think. Just get your ass over here now and fix this!"

"Ok ok, I'll be right over in a second." Crap.

He was still mentally climbing the walls when he strode into John's quarters. "Ok, I've got Grecian Formula and Feria for Men."

Both Elizabeth's eyebrows went through her hairline, followed by a nervous hand, brushing away an imaginary strand.

John was more interested in ribbing Rodney over his selection of hair dyes.

"What?" whined the scientist, "You'd also be greying prematurely if you had to work with the incompetence that I do on a daily basis. It is a miracle none of them have managed to kill themselves when I'm not around to supervise. Anyway, what is Elizabeth doing in your quarters?"

"My shampoo ran out. I'll deal with you later." Elizabeth plucked the Feria from Rodney's hand and marched straight back into John's bathroom. Rodney's jaw hit the floor.

John immediately saw the cogs turning and ushered him out with a reminder of exactly what would be inflicted on him if he dared to speak of this to anybody. Somehow John doubted that this incident would escape the rumour mill, no matter how badly he threatened to maim the perpetrator.

Flopping down onto his bed, he closed his eyes in an attempt to take his mind off the inevitable damage control that would be necessary. Nonetheless, he smiled happily as he listened to Elizabeth busying herself in the shower - he almost expected her to start singing - it all seemed so domestic, yet so inaccessible. Gazing at his guitar in the far corner of the room, it wasn't long before his mind took him to places he really shouldn't go - the South-West Pier, with Elizabeth, the guitar, turkey sandwiches… and Johnny Cash.

The object of his daydreams emerged from his bathroom for the third time that evening.

"It looks better," he said, pointing to her wet tresses, trying to divert attention away from his treacherous thoughts.

"Better than orange, you mean?"

"It'll grow out, Liz'beth"

"This is going to take quite some explaining in the morning."

"You'll be fine," he stepped into her personal space, almost willing her not to leave yet.

"I've got to go," she took a step towards him. She could feel his warmth, _ohsoclose_.

"Look, if you don't want to brave the gossip yet, I have a stash of beer under my bed," he held his breath.

Elizabeth swallowed. "It's late."

"You're going to bed with wet hair?"

Elizabeth leaned down and picked up the towel, still strewn on the bed. He stilled her trembling hands, taking the towel from them, then led her to a chair. "Sit down, Liz'beth," his voice was almost a whisper.

"Damn you John Sheppard."

Gently, he resumed Elizabeth's head massage in silence, the towel eventually forgotten.


End file.
